


Sempre

by sparklyscorpion



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Fill in Scene, post-lair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyscorpion/pseuds/sparklyscorpion
Summary: ALW stage show based. A small fill-in scene; after Christine and Raoul escape from Erik's lair, Raoul confronts his failures and his future.





	Sempre

**Author's Note:**

> ALW stage show themed, and written in dreadful present tense (I went through a phase, sorry). Yet another old ficlet from many years ago that has been polished a bit.

Raoul is hopelessly lost by the time they reach the second fork in the tunnels. It had been easier somehow when he'd been spurred on by terror, his pulse pounding in his ears as he'd navigated the labyrinth with nothing more than rushed instructions from Mme Giry and the furious shouts of the Phantom guiding him. But now it is deathly silent, save for the murmurs of the mob and Christine's whispered directions. How many times had she been down here? And he'd wasted so many months trying to convince her that there was no Phantom of the Opera, no danger, no threat…

That nonexistent threat had nearly killed him tonight.

He doesn't know what to do after they reach the far shore, so Raoul does nothing except cling to the pole as if it is his only connection to the world. When Christine at last touches his shoulder, he shies away from the contact, embarrassed. He had promised to protect her from that monster, and yet he had been powerless - not only to stop her abduction, but to help her once he'd reached the lair.

Raoul doesn't realize that his hands are shaking and cold until Christine takes them in her own - surprisingly warm, considering the chill in the air. He won't meet her gaze, not yet, so he glances down at their joined hands, remembering how useless his had been. They are hands that have held swords and pistols, hands that have bloodied lips and noses in his younger days, but tonight those hands were completely worthless.

Her fingers trace the red outline that still circles his neck, a vivid reminder of the noose that had been there only minutes before, the noose that will undoubtedly haunt his dreams for quite some time. Raoul is ashamed. He'd charged into the catacombs of the Opera to save her, because that was his duty, his promise to her; in the end, she had been the savior, and he the saved.

"Raoul?" Christine's voice is only a whisper, but it is unnaturally loud now that they are away from the approaching mob.

He doesn't want her to see him like this, but Raoul won't let himself be a coward as well as a failure, so he hazards a peek at her beneath lowered lashes. Her face has been washed of all color except her lips, and he stares at them so he doesn't have to meet her eyes. She seems uncomfortable with this, and idly he wonders if she thinks he is condemning her actions tonight, the kisses that had set them all free.

He only condemns himself.

Why hadn't he _listened_ to her? Why had he insisted that she be used her as bait in a trap? He loves her, and when he'd thought the choice was between her freedom and his life, Raoul had been more than willing to sacrifice himself for her sake. Just as she had done for him…

"I love you." Her desperation saturates the statement, and Raoul is so surprised by the neediness in her voice, so uncharacteristic of his strong fiancée - stronger, he finally realizes, that he'd even guessed at until tonight - that he finally looks into her eyes, which are filled with tears instead of accusations.

She seems to be waiting for him to say that nothing has changed in their relationship, while he knows that everything has. He sees her differently now, and it must be the same for her, as well. But her eyes still reflect the truth of her statement; she truly loves him, in spite of how spectacularly he has failed her this night.

"You're…" Raoul brushes the back of his hand against her hair, the curls loose and tumbling down her shoulders. He takes a deep breath before gazing into her eyes again, his words raw and hoarse. "Extraordinary. I can't imagine my life without you."

She smiles at him then, her lips quivering. "You won't ever have to know what that's like, Raoul. I want to grow old with you."

It is such a precious gift - the chance to age with this woman, to father and raise her children, to hold her every night, to watch her dark hair turn silver - a gift that he hadn't been sure of a mere half an hour ago, a gift worth far more than any fortune in the world. And now she is his, as he is hers, never to be parted again, except by death. His Christine...

Something inside of his chest breaks, and when he throws his arms around her and pulls her close, he can't distinguish between her sobs and his own.


End file.
